The unwanted child
by time-heals-all-wounds
Summary: Ian Jones is not a normal child. Found when he was just a baby, his real parents are unknown. But now that he's older, he's having strange dreams of two men with a WWII coat and suit on a place he can only call paradise with orange skies and swaying mountains. Who are those men, and what will Ian have to go through to uncover the truth? Will contain child abuse in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Often I would dream of a world that wouldn't be classified as normal. This world would have a burnt orange sky with two suns, where it would hang above trees that had silver leaves; accompanied with mountains that were covered in snow, and fields that were golden.

The dreams would only occur if I needed them, to soothe my corrupted mind and give me some peace. Occasionally, I would have these dreams at least three times a week, maybe more if I was depressed. In this dream, there would always be the same two people, the same two men. One stood out proud with a grey WWII coat; his mischievous grin completing his face he was stood beside another man. He had shorter hair; though his fringe slightly curled he was the most formal. Always wearing a black suit, waistcoat and tie. The colour of the tie and shirt would always change, unlike the man with the WWII coat; his clothes never changed.

In today's dream I was with the pair of them, the three of us laid in a golden field we were watching the mountains sway in the cool breeze above us. Scenery guaranteed to calm my mood. I glanced at the pair of them either side of me, neither of them were watching the mountains; instead they were looking down at me, both holding the same smile I could only wonder why.

No matter how much curiosity I held, I never was going to find out. Neither of them ever talked, just watched. They would interact with me, but it was simple interaction. Such as ruffling my hair or the occasion pat on the shoulder for comfort. On whatever occasion, I didn't mind; it was better than nothing. And nothing was what I ever got from my adopted parents, unless you would call the occasional beating from them as something.

I had made it very clear in my mind that I would keep behind the real world when I was in the dream world, I would imagine a door. A door with at least three locks on it, that way I could lock it with the thought of knowing that for once I had made the choice and not my adopted parents. Such thing I lacked in the real world, such thing would give me a lashing with one of the belts for sure.

The man with the coat was now pointing; guiding my eyes his finger led me to a rather large golden red star. The bright light radiating from the ball of gas was enough to make me laugh, a rare occasion I would ever do back in the real world. The man was grinning; glancing down at me he then proceeded to guide me around the sky. Pointing around at the random stars, he would never talk; just guide me with his finger. Giving me the conclusion to refer to him as the captain. His direction for guidance stood out just as clearly as his grin.

The other man, who today was wearing a blood red shirt and tie just watched. Watched the Captain guide me across the stars. This is what I was interested in, not school, not my damaged social life. Just being here with the people who cared for me, which seemed to be these two men. Who today were showing me the stars, a pure highlight to what was out there. For if it was just stars that fascinated me that much, what if there could be something more out there?

I didn't know why I was getting so worked up to what could be out there, for this was only a dream. In a few hours I was going to wake up, and this moment would only cease to be a memory. A memory that I could only relive in my dreams.

And a dream it only was, because before I knew it; the two men were fading. Along with the swaying mountains, golden grass and burnt orange sky. All of it faded. The captain's mischievous grin and the gentle smile the other man held. It was all replaced with darkness, nothing but the dark I found it difficult to work out if I was dreaming or not.

"Ian!"

My eyes snapped open, I wasn't dreaming. I had returned back to the real world, and my adopted mother didn't sound happy.

_This is just an introduction, so I apologize if it is short. I have too many plots buzzing around in my head that I have to work out the story line. So this chapter is just a taste for what's to come_


	2. Chapter 2

**Just to let you know that I've now got the plot figured out, just have to write it out now. Enjoy chapter 2 **

My adopted mother could only be described as a woman who had a short temper, especially around people she did not like, and I seemed to be one of them. Her rage loud enough to be heard even from the grave, her face was a warning to back off on its own. She possessed gray eyes, and at times it was hard for me to tell if she actually had any colour in them.

I risked a glance at the old tacky clock on the wall. 07:56, why was she calling me now? I clambered off of my bed; the thought of her summoning me this early wasn't rare. It was rare for her to be up at this time, especially on a weekend.

My shirt was shoved on without another thought, followed by clean pants and trousers I fastened the zip on the stairs.

"Ian!"

I unruffled my bed hair next.

"Ian!"

Her voice grew with rage the further down the house I got, taking in a deep breath for reassurance the door was pushed open. On the other side, was my very distraught adopted mother. She was dressed in her dressing gown, a faded pink with brown stains at the tip of her sleeves I was attacked with an odour of smoked nicotine. I winced, covering my mouth slightly I looked up at her. Her dark hair covered the majority of her face, her eyes were well hidden.

"I've been calling you for the past five minutes." Her voice growled.

I held my breath "I came down as soon as I could."

She laughed bitterly, "Well not quick enough." She reached into her gown pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. Choosing one at random she continued, "Lucky for you I need to send you on a little errand."

This could not be good. "What kind of errand?"

She grabbed her lighter from the side and lit the cigarette in front of me; I tried hard to hide my wince. My lungs had grown over the years very sensitive to the smell of the smoke; the harsh chemicals plunged deep inside of my chest. Feeling as if my lungs were burning, I waited anxiously on the spot for her to speak.

"We're out of whiskey again, and seeing as you're already dressed you can go get some from the shop."

"But I'm not old enough." I protested lightly.

"Is there going to be a problem in you retrieving the whiskey?" she exhaled deeply, smoke coming out of her nose her eyes glistened with venom, like she was a furious fire breathing dragon I shook my head quickly in fear.

"No." I whispered.

"Good. Off you go, I expect you back no longer than half nine." She breathed, putting out her cigarette on the counter she turned to leave.

"What about the money to buy the whiskey?" I said gently, watching her as she paused by the stairs.

Her posture tightened, "Is there a problem?"

Having realised that she wasn't going to give me any money I glanced down at the floor, "No, there isn't."

There was a low grunt, the floorboards groaning beneath the sudden shift of her weight it was soon accompanied by the creaking of the stairs. Each step getting fainter I was left alone to bear my thoughts.

I had to pinch myself at least five times before I came to the conclusion that this nightmare was real, my adopted mother was forcing me to shop lift. I didn't bother to tie up my scruffy trainers, but instead to stuff the shoelaces inside of my trainers beside my bare feet; I wasn't going to be able to wear socks today.

Although my shoes were scruffy, they were my only pair so I had definitely worn into them. Apart from the couple holes at the bottom of them they were ideal for my personal use.

It was cold outside, seeing as I didn't have a coat I was shivering to the bone the moment the cool air came into contact with my skin. I hugged my chest, in hope that if I made the extra layer myself it would keep me warm. It worked, only just. Protecting only my top half I headed in the direction towards the nearest shop.

It was early, so there probably wouldn't be many people roaming about in the aisles. Only about two or three if I'm lucky, especially since it was the weekend. Many people should still be in their beds, tucked in safely and in the dream world. And not out here, being forced to do something against your own will.

If I was to get caught, what would happen to me then? Would I go to prison, and face my new life as a criminal who was caught shop lifting. Or would I be let off with a warning and return to my adopted parents, where I would then be beaten for getting caught and left to face a month of despair and pain. Either way, I was doomed.

The shop greeted me with a wave of warmth when I walked inside, as if thanking me for choosing the shop I lowered my head in disappointment. I was going to betray the shop's trust; I was going to steal from the one place that has given me the kindest welcome I have ever received.

Glancing swiftly across the aisles I paced across the shop, my heart beat would quicken the closer I got to the aisle. The thought of shop lifting frightened me so much that I was trembling. I could see my reflection twitch in the jungle of brightly coloured glass bottles. Looking in amongst them it didn't take me long to find the whiskey bottle.

I would have to be quick, taking hold of the bottle it would give me at least a minute to escape, maybe more if I was lucky. I would have to be careful though, I didn't really have anywhere to hide the bottle. No coat or jacket I would be given no choice but to hold it to my side, holding it behind my back would look suspicious. Heck, just a boy holding an alcoholic bottle on its own is suspicious.

A breath was released I didn't even know I was holding, emptying my lungs I reached for the bottle across me. I wanted to get it over and done with; picking up the bottle from the side it took a lot of effort just to hold it. My hands were trembling to the touch.

Trying to secure it inside of my hands I turned sharply on my heels, my aim now to leave this building I had to stop myself from not dropping the bottle with fright. Someone had been stood behind me the whole time; the person had been so quiet that I didn't even suspect that they were there. Petrified, I stared at the eyes of who had caught me. They were calm, in fact; they had no trace of anger on them but sorrow.

It took me a moment to realise that I recognized those eyes. My own widened, "Rose?"

Rose was the local photographer; I had first met her when she had introduced herself at our doorstep. She didn't receive a kind welcome from my adopted parents, far from it. But I had grown very keen of her, as she was the first person that had actually introduced herself to me. Something that had never happened before.

I hardly see her though, not being allowed out of the house never gave me a chance to. It was only when I was at school or out doing a job for my adopted parents that I actually got to see her. But for once in my life I didn't want to see her; not like this, with me about to shop lift for a bottle of whiskey.

"Ian." She said softly, "What are you doing with that bottle of whiskey?"

I was unable to answer her, only to look down at the bottle in shame.

"Where are your parents Ian?"

Still no answer.

I heard a small sigh before she had knelt down in my eye sight. "Were you going to shop lift Ian?"

I bit my lip, I had been caught. Now glancing at her and between the bottle I nodded miserably, my eyes were rapidly growing misty. "Yes." I sniffed.

I was expecting her to turn me in, expecting her to push or drag me to the till where I be charged for the crime of shop lifting. But she didn't, instead she gently took the bottle out of trembling hands and stood up.

"I'm going to pay for this, but we're going to have a long talk afterwards about this."

All I could do was nod.


End file.
